Fight to the death
by Fantaa200
Summary: This is the 59th annual Hunger games. 24 tributes in one arena, only one will come out. Who? Read and find out... probably better than it sounds


**Chapter 1 - The beginning of the end**

**POV: Amy Caverly**

"Happy Hunger games!" our new escort shouts loudly with her silly Capitol accent which is even worse than the other ones I've heard. I know that her first name is Annah, Hannah or something like that, but I don't remember her last name. She is wearing a big, hot pink wig decorated with small, blue birds (fake ones, of course). She is also wearing a very purple, weird shaped dress. I really don't understand why people in the Capitol think that looks good. To me, or, well, to everyone normal, it's just silly and funny. Seriously, blue birds?

Nobody really knows what happened to our old escort, but some of my friends and kids at school have told me that she suffered a heart attack during last years games. I don't know if it's true, but I don't want to know if it is, either. That won't make anything better.

"And may the odd be_ ever_ in your favour", the new escort continues on. "It's a real honor to be here! This, as you might already know, is my first year as an escort and I'm _so_ excited for this year. However! Now it's time to choose the boy and girl to represent District 6 in the 59th annual hunger games! As usual, ladies first."

She starts walking to the giant reaping bowl with the female names. Even though I try to be and look calm, I am definitely not. My mind screams _Not me! Not me!, _my stomach hurts of anxiety, I almost want to puke_, _and I can't seem to do anything about those lame things.

Annah digs her hand deeply into the reaping bowl and takes out a slip of paper. _Not me! Not me! _She walks back - how the heck does she manage to walk with those _things_ on her feet?! - to the podium. _Please, not me. _She opens the paper slip, the few people murmuring something falls completely silent, and then reads the name out loud, the name of the girl who will probably be dead in two weeks or so.

"Leya Smith."

_It's not me! _I think happily, filled with relief, but I immediately regret it. Leya probably has a family who needs her, friends, people who love her, she will probably die. And here I stand, relieved that it wasn't me, that somebody else will die in my place. Ugh. I'm such a bad person.

Leya steps up on the stage, her face completely blank showing no emotion at all. She is very tall and has a somewhat long, blond hair in a braid down her back. Her eyes are green and narrow, her nose is a little pointed and she has freckles. Her dress is short and light green, and she almost looks like an elf from a fairy tale. How old can she be, sixteen? Eighteen? I don't know, because for some reason I don't recognize her from school.

The escort - maybe I should call her Annah, after all - asks Leya what her reaction to her name being drawn is, and she just murmurs that she doesn't really care. Annah scowls, but doesn't comment, and continues the reaping.

It's time for the boys now. Annah walks to the reaping bowl with the boy names, digs her hand deeply into the bowl, picks up a paper slip and suddenly I realize that... But no. No. I let go of the thought. It's impossible. Well, not impossible, but almost. My brother is only thirteen, he has only _two_ paper slips in that bowl, he won't get –

"Jackson Caverly!" Annah calls out. It's _him._ My little brother who I love with my entire heart. I stand there paralyzed as I watch him walk up to the stage with his black hair not combed. His big, blue eyes are wide open in shock and his usual innocent look is replaced with nothing but fear.

It takes me a while to take it in. My brother is going into the games. And I can't take his place, which no one else will.

"_NO!_"

**POV: Cara Steel, female tribute from District 10**

"CARA!" my mother yells when she enters what I call the goodbye room. Her brown eyes that usually look so warm and kind are filled with anger, and maybe I'm wrong, but I think I can even see fear and pain behind all that anger. "Now explain. Why the heck did you volunteer?!"

Okay. Time for the scolding.

"Maybe because I wanted to be in the games. What else?" I hiss as an answer.

"You know very well that only one can come out alive from that arena. There are 23 other tributes to fight off! Many of them will be much better than you! You won't get out!"

"Mom, I _can. _I know knife throwing. I'm fast. I'm smart. I'll be out of that thing – alive – before you can blink."

Mom gets a little suprised when I say 'I know knife throwing', as I've never told her, but she doesn't question it. Instead she says "But at least you could have told me so that I could say goodb–" her voice cracks at the end and she starts to cry.

"Mother..."

"I'm just so worried, Cara. I love you so much. I wouldn't be able to bear it if you... If you..."

I suddenly feel really bad for her. Maybe I should have said something. But still I know very well that I'm not a good person. The world doesn't become a better place having me in it, maybe it's even the opposite. I'm not friendly, not social. I have since I was ten sneaked into my aunt's house – she is a Victor and very rich – borrowed her knives that she used for cooking and ran into the woods. Throwing them at trees. Animals. Became really good at it. Wanting to use them on humans in the games... No, I would really not be a sad loss. But my mom seems to think I would be, she stands there and cries, and then I feel bad for her again...

"I know. I'm sorry. But I can do it."

"If you say so..." she looks in my eyes and gives me a serious look. "Promise me that you win."

"Mom, I can't promise anything..."

"_Promise_."

I swallow hard. What if I don't make it out? Then she'll be all heartbroken, and I'd have broke my last promise to her. A promise that would change her life. But I know she'll get over it, so I still say "Yes, I promise" and hug her tight, trying to avoid frowning when I smell the cow smell she always gets after work.

"I love you, sweetie", she wispers. "Time to bring District ten another victor. Right?"

"Yeah." I smile. "I love you too, mother."

Then the peacekeepers come, announce that our three minutes are up, and take her away from me.

**POV: Naima Maple, female tribute from District 7**

I run into his arms as soon as he enters the room and starts to cry hysterically. I don't give a shit about that you'll see that I've been crying later and that I will look weak. I have to let the tears out. Say goodbye. I'm as good as dead anyway.

"I'm so sorry", i cry into his shoulder. Is this the last time I get to hug him? Hear his voicec?

"It's not your fault. Nobody can't do anything now anyway", he answers, attempting to calm me, but he fails and I continue sobbing.

"I'll die."

"Don't say so."

"But I will..."

He roughly presses his lips against mine to shut me up, and it really works. I know that this might be the last kiss I'll share with him, so I try to make the most out of it. When the kiss is over he looks me deeply in the eyes.

"Hey. It may be hard, but you actually do have a chance to come home, unlike many other tributes. You can handle an axe. You're smart. The other ones are just terrified kids with no skills at all."

"But the careers are going to –"

"No", he interrupts. "You can take them, I swear. Hide during the whole games until there's only a few tributes left. You'll be able to win then."

"But then I'll have to _kill _someone..." I say and shiver at the bare thought of me ending a whole life.

"Why are you trying to make me believe that you'll die?" he says quietly, his eyes now locked on the wooden floor.

I stand there, speechless, staring at him. Have I really hurt him?

"Eric..."

"It's okay", he says, but he sounds like he's going to start crying any second.

"No. Don't be silly, I can see it's not."

He ignores me. "I love you, Naima."

I feel how another tear runs down my cheek, ignores that he ignored what I said and say "I love you too."

* * *

**Author's note: So this is the first chapter of my first fanfiction. Please review and let me know what you think of it!**


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